


Parallel Lines: A Prologue

by jestbee



Series: Parallel Lines Verse [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 10:55:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14307150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jestbee/pseuds/jestbee
Summary: He's so sure it's going to be negative that when he's staring down at the two lines in the little window he assumes his eyes are playing tricks.He picks it up, holds it closer. The lines are still there.





	Parallel Lines: A Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to @templeofshame for being the best beta yet again. This is for the @phandomficfest Spring/New Beginnings fest.
> 
> With the prompt of 'new beginning' I instantly knew I wanted to do this.
> 
> If I was to ever write a chaptered mpreg fic, this might be how it would start.

_8 weeks ago_

"Ow!"

"Shit, Sorry." 

Dan laughed vaguely, the sound swallowed by Phil's mouth. The back of his head a little sore where it had ricocheted off the hard edge of Phil's bed but his thoughts are swimming a little, lost in the swell of that fourth cocktail. Fruity, sweet and tangy, it had been all too easy to drink past the point of sense, all too easy to reach over the space between them on the couch and catch the twitch of Phil's mouth against his. 

It was never a good idea, doing this with Phil, but he isn't well known for making good decisions most of the time, not when it comes to his own welfare anyway. He's not even sure what Phil is thinking, or perhaps neither of them are thinking at all, perhaps this is all just bubbling up and over. A little tidal wave of stress and that familiar tension, eased by proximity and warmth and yeah, a bit of bad decision making. 

It's not like it hasn't happened before. 

Still, he should have been more careful, should have noticed how wanting Phil like this was heightened, recognised the signs. Maybe he should have been more careful earlier, kept track of the green foiled blister packet of pills he kept in the bathroom cabinet. Not left it there when they'd travelled last month. 

There were a lot of things he _should_ have done, but with sugary cocktails swirling in his brain, and his best friend breathing hot and wet on his neck, chasing a moan down his throat with his tongue and reaching over to his bedside drawer, it was just all too easy not to.

-

_Now._

Dan is tired. Has been for about a week and it isn't showing any signs of getting better. He's just a bit run down, speeding from meeting to meeting with barely a chance to sit down in between and he's just… tired. 

He's slumped on the couch, his lunch sitting bloated in his stomach, a little sick, a little acidic, his eyes are gravel behind his lids but he has to finish writing this email. It's barely eight o'clock but he thinks he'll probably take himself off to bed soon. 

Phil is at the dining table across the way and if Dan could be bothered to turn his head and look over the back of the couch he'd be able to see him. Not that he needs to, he can picture him, hair swept off his forehead, glasses slipping down his nose, wearing those god awful threadbare pyjamas that Dan says he needs to throw out but that Phil clings to steadfastly. Phil is good at loyalty, even past the point of usefulness. Dan knows that better than anyone. 

He can feel the ever-present darkness weighing in on him, that familiar tinge of something heavy settled just out of reach. Tomorrow might be a bad day, tonight is a bad night. He's tired, he aches, he wants to sleep but there's a fog in his brain pulling him down to a place beyond rest. 

"You haven't moved in a while."

Phil is peering over the back of the couch. Eyes blinking, a few lines of concern etched about him but otherwise exactly as Dan thought he would look. He feels a swell of an emotion he can't name at the sight. 

"I'm fine."

His voice sounds a little like his mood, jagged but slow. The cold has seeped in to his bones and he feels stiff. 

"I know it's early but you look like you need sleep. Or hot chocolate? Do you want hot chocolate?" 

Dan smiles but shakes his head, "No I feel a bit sick actually."

"You think you're coming down with something?" 

"No… not really. I just think I'm…" he waves a hand in the air unhelpfully, but Phil seems to understand what he means. 

"Ah. Anything I can do?"

"Thanks mate but, no. I'm good." He sends the email and sets his laptop down on the couch cushion next to him. "I think I'm just going to go to bed. I don't know why I’m feeling like this…"

"We've been busy," Phil shrugs, "we can take a break… if you need one. I can take care of some things."

Phil is too good. Dan hates that he sometimes has to pick up the pieces of his wretched mood, step in when Dan's own mental block means he fails at even the most basic of tasks. 

"Nah," Dan says, attempting a smile. "I can… I just need some sleep. I'll be better in the morning." 

He hopes he's right. But he can't really be sure.

Dan is stood in the bathroom, brushing his teeth and glaring at himself in the mirror, the bags under his eyes are highlighted by the bright overhead lights in a way that is entirely unflattering, when he catches sight of the green foil packet and reaches for it. 

Today marks the last day of this cycle, according to the little days written on the back, but there are still quite a few pills sitting in their little bubbles. He tries to calculate what that means and whether he's due a break or whether he should run two packets together and sort it out next month but he might have run two packets together last time, he definitely can't remember having a heat last month, and he knows he shouldn’t do it more than once.

He definitely took a break and had a heat the month before because… He sighs. Whatever. He'll take a break week.

That's probably why he's feeling like crap anyway. Fucking pills, not for the first time in his life he wishes he didn't need them. His mental state is difficult enough most days without throwing hormones and contraception in to the mix. 

He puts the packet back in the cabinet, spits out toothpaste, and goes to bed. Hopefully he'll feel better in the morning. 

-

Dan isn't perceptive enough. They're busy and also he's lazy so he's nearly to the end of his break week when he realises he hasn't felt any heat symptoms at all. He still feels bloated, which could be a symptom, and he's tired a lot which… yeah that could be one too. But there's no raised libido in the way he's used to, no cramps. 

"Are you still having a bad time?" Phil asks when he finds Dan slumped on the sofa. 

Dan is just a bit run down, he thinks. They've been busy. 

"I'm just… yeah. Bad day." 

It probably just is that he's having a few bad days. He could just be so depressed that he doesn't even want to fuck, that's happened before. But something feels different. He feels… off. 

"Isn't your…" Phil trails off, waving his hand in the air uselessly. "Could it be…"

Dan gives him a bit of an angry side glance for boiling all emotions down to heat hormones but also nods his head vaguely, anything to stop Phil talking. Phil isn't a carrier so he isn't always the best at talking about Dan's biology, especially his heats. 

He tries to give him a pass, because it's Phil and he means well, but there's a part of him that wishes Phil would just fucking Google it and stop tiptoeing around mentioning his heat like it's something dirty.

He's kind of surprised Phil keeps track of when they should be, to be honest.

They've hooked up during them a few times and Phil is oddly perplexed each time. Somewhat surprised as how Dan acts, or doesn’t act, during them. Even though Dan has tried to explain, time and time again, that he's not a lust-crazed zombie like the propaganda would have you believe, nor is he a angry hormonal monster. He's just Dan, with an itch he can't scratch under his skin. Having sex doesn't get rid of that but it does help. 

Phil is mostly over it now and he does do his best to shake of years of ingrained nonsense, but sometimes he reverts.

Phil makes an apologetic face at Dan’s glare and smiles a little. It’s so familiar and warm, Phil’s smile, Dan appreciates the effort.

He appreciates Phil, is the thing. Which is why he has, in the past, without the need for sensationalised, mind-altering hormones, made the ill-advised decision to go to Phil during his heat. Though, hypocritically, it's nice to have that little built in excuse. He can reach across the distance between them and convince himself it's just the hormones, convince Phil it means nothing more than easing his symptoms. They aren’t together, it’s just a thing that happens occasionally when it gets too much.

The truth is, he doesn't have to give in to sex at all, doesn’t even really want to most of the time, because relationships are tricky and heats even more so. He usually settles for wanking a bit more frequently than usual that week. But sometimes, sometimes Phil is there and familiar and lovely, sometimes drunk but mostly just misguided, but willing, always willing. Because it’s jsut sex, it doesn’t mean anything. And Phil is nice, he’ll help Dan out if he thinks that’s what it is.  
Only a handful of times since they met, and it's not a big deal after. 

Like last time, Dan realises. He didn't have a heat last month but he did the one before because Phil had been there, hadn't he? Sugary sweet and as intoxicating as the alcohol itself. He'd lost his head to liquor and the way Phil's fingers felt trailing over his neck.

"Soon," Dan says, lies probably, because it's supposed to be now. "It'll be… soon."

Phil just nods in a vague sort of way, pats his arm and offers him a cup of tea. He's trying to be supportive. Whether this is pre-heat hormones or Dan's own mental health issues, Phil is being kind and lovely and that floods something warm into Dan's belly. 

When Phil has gone off to make tea Dan is left alone with his thoughts. He's tired, a little moody, and his heat is late. 

He's crazy, he must be going crazy, but there's a cold prickle of dread making its way down his spine. The image of the packet of contraception pills flashes before his eyes, all out of order and skipped over. He thinks about last time, about cocktails and hitting his head on the bed frame and… 

Shit.

There is no need to freak out, it's probably all in his head. Depression has made his heat late before and the missed pills can't help. He'll just resume taking them after this week and hope it resolves itself. He won't think about the near miss. He won't drink on his heat again. He'll stop making that mistake with Phil over and over. 

He'll just get it together. That's all there is to it. 

-

A few days later, when he’s supposed to start his contraceptive cycle again, he's staring at a brand new blister packet with the days written over each little circle and he can't stop the persistent thought in his head. 

His stomach swirls, he feels a bit sick and sluggish and maybe it is in his head but he has to find out for sure. 

He puts the pills back, because god knows what they would do if he was actually… 

Better to just get it all sorted, know for sure, so he can stop thinking about it. 

-

He's so sure it's going to be negative that when he's staring down at the two lines in the little window he blinks rapidly assuming his eyes are playing tricks. 

He picks it up, holds it closer. The lines are still there. 

He feels lightheaded, his stomach clenches and he is suddenly on his knees throwing up loudly. His eyes water and he feels a hook behind his navel pull with every retch. 

When he's done he wipes his face, flushes the toilet, and leans back with his face against the cool side of the bath. 

The stick is still in his hand and the lines are still there, mocking him.

He can't stay here. He has to move, to do something, but it's all too big and overwhelming he has no idea what that should be. 

He unravels the toilet roll from the holder, sheets and sheets of it before wrapping it around the pregnancy test, covering it completely.

When he's done he jams it in to the bottom of the little swing top bin, making sure it's covered over. 

When the evidence is gone he stands and stares at his bloodshot eyes in the mirror. He washes his face, brushes his teeth, and does what he does best. 

Decides to deal with it later. 

-

Later, it turns out, is about a week after he throws the test away. 

Dan wakes up a few mornings feeling pretty queasy and he just about manages to pull through the day. Phil notices something is wrong and asks him about it but Dan waves him off, sips down tea Phil gives him and blames it on a stomach bug. 

Phil doesn't ask about his heat, which is just as well. 

Dan has finished throwing up one morning and is slowly coming to the realisation that he probably does have to do something about this after all when Phil corners him. 

"It's food poisoning isn't it?" 

"No Phil, it's not." 

"It is, oh my god. What if it's in our kitchen? Yuck." 

Dan's stomach still feels acidic and he's still really quite tired and preoccupied with how he's going to tell Phil what it _really_ is that he doesn't argue when Phil sets about cleaning the entire kitchen, right down to inside the oven and the microwave. It might be the deepest clean their kitchen has ever had. 

This isn't food poisoning but, it's probably due a going over anyway. 

Dan stays out of his way, sitting on his bed with his feet out in front of him, laptop on his knee, googling what he needs to do. What his options are. 

He tries to stay firmly away from any and all websites telling him how big it is and what it might look like in there but they seem to come out of nowhere and soon he's just staring down as his stomach, which is not yet raised though he calculates he's about nine or ten weeks gone and honestly just freaking out a little bit. He has no one to tell, no one who can give him any advice and Google is being entirely unhelpful. 

He pushes his t-shirt up a little, gazing at the strip of skin below his own navel and the waistband of his jogging bottoms. He puts his hand flat on the skin, the heat of it radiating outward. It's odd, to imagine something growing in there. Inside him. Something made up of him and--

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. It's time, he thinks, he really does have to tell Phil.

That thought sits a little awkwardly. This is his body and his decision and he doesn't have to ask for permission. Not that Phil would ever expect him to. Probably. 

But the idea of not telling him this huge thing, even just as his best friend regardless of his own stake in the outcome of Dan's decision… that doesn't sit right either. 

It's time. He has to do it now.

He sets his laptop aside, next to him on the bed and is about to stand up when he spots his door swinging open silently. Phil is suddenly in his doorway and Dan smiles at him absently before he notices the ashen look of his face, the way his lips are parted but his eyes twisted up into an almost-frown. 

"What--" Dan starts, but he notices the little bundle of tissue wrapped around Phil's clenched fist, a length of it travelling over his thumb and cascading down his arm, swinging by his elbow. From inside his fingers protrudes the test. Dan can still see the two little pink lines from here.

"Dan." 

Phil's voice sounds choked. Dan has heard it only a few times before, when something big has happened. When his grandma passed away or when things got too much for Phil's constant cheeriness and he just… broke. That's what it sounds like, broken and cracked, like some irrevocably damaged. 

Dan freezes, one hand braced on the bed where he was going to get up, fingers curled into a fist, knuckles aching. 

"I…" 

He can't find anymore words. They're there, he knows what he _should_ say. _I'm pregnant. It's yours._ But he doesn't, he just lets his sentence trail off into nothing. 

"Are you--why didn't you tell me?" 

"Why the hell do you even have that?" Dan asks, because that is safer than answering Phil's question. 

"After I cleaned the kitchen I thought I'd just do the bathroom… it doesn't matter why, Dan. Are you pregnant?" 

“Yes.” Dan frowns. “I mean… that thing says I am and I feel… yes. Probably.”

“So this is why you’ve been sick and feeling so bad?” Phil looks slightly irritated, though not for the reason Dan immediately expects. “You haven't been to a doctor?”

“Not yet. I'm going to.”

Phil huffs a loud sigh straight out of his nose. He sounds exasperated, which Dan knows only happens when Phil gets to the bottom of his really long patience.

He moves in to the room, still clutching the stupid plastic test and drops down on the bed beside Dan. His knee brushes Dan's hip where he hitches one leg up. 

“You can't procrastinate being _pregnant_ ,” Phil says incredulously. 

Although he's clearly annoyed at Dan's lack of proactivity in the situation, Phil is taking it much better than he'd thought he would. 

“Have you even told the other dad yet?” 

Oh.

“I…” Dan just stares at him, trying to find the words. “No… Phil…”

“So…? You--"

Phil cuts himself off and Dan nods. It's quiet for a moment, solemn. The plastic test is still there in the space between them and Phil's knuckles are white where his grip has tightened. 

Two pink lines mock him in perfect parallel. 

“Wow.”

“I didn't mean for this to…” Dan sighs with inflated cheeks, “I'm shit at those pills.”

“When were you going to tell me? _Were_ you going to tell me?” 

“Yes. Of course. I mean, I think it would have been fairly obvious after a while.”

Dan runs a hand over the flat of his stomach. He still feels kind of bloated, like his stomach won't settle. But that's all it is. He can't imagine the terrifying thing growing there, can't imagine what it will be like when his stomach expands and he feels it move and--

“So you've decided you're having it?” 

He whips his head up, realising what he’d said, insinuating he was continuing with the pregnancy. Dan's instinct is to say he doesn't know, that he hasn't thought about it. But he has, and it's scary and big and completely unexpected but, yeah, he's going to do this. 

He can't find the words though, cracked and crumpled up in the back of his throat where he could reach them, but his tongue feels thick and heavy, useless. 

So he nods, keeping eye contact with Phil the entire time. 

“I mean… you don't have to… do anything. I know you might not want…”

“It's your body, Dan. I'm not about to--" he purses his lips as if trying to sort through some stuff himself. Dan watches a million thoughts wrestle on his face before it resets itself into something determined. “It's kind of… scary.”

“Yeah, no fucking kidding.” Dan shifts a little, reaching out to take the test from Phil’s hand and set it down on the bedside table. “I didn’t know it was going to happen, I’ve been kind of trying to… I don’t know. Deny it? Like if I didn’t think about it, it would go away?”

Phil slides his hand into Dan’s. His palm is so soft, always so soft, and Dan grips on tight. 

“I know that’s stupid,” Dan continues, “But now that it has happened… and I’ve had some time to think about it…. Yeah. I want to do it. It’ll be hard as shit and I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it but… I want to.” 

Phil nods, like he understands. He still looks a little skittish and Dan knows how he feels. This is a lot to get dumped on him on a weekday afternoon.

“Whoa. Yes. I mean… Me too, I do, now. I don’t want you to think that I don’t I just… I didn’t expect this today.” He offers a weak chuckle, a facsimile of his usual laugh but he’s trying, Dan knows, to make things better. “It’s kind of… crazy. Weird.”

“I know,” Dan insists, squeezing his hand lightly. “It is for me too. But, you know, there’s no one else I’d….”

He clears his throat and pauses, hoping it will help him sort through the jumble of things tumbling through his head. He shouldn’t say what he says next but it’s how he feels and now more than ever he needs to be more honest with Phil. And with himself. 

“There’s no one else I would want to do this with. You get that, right? If it wasn’t you... “ 

“Yeah,” Phil says, his voice still low, “Me too. If it had to happen at this point in my life, I’m glad it’s you and not some one night stand.”

Dan thinks that’s probably what he meant too. If it had to happen _now_ he’s glad it’s Phil. Phil isn’t the only person he’d want to have kids with in general… is he?

That’s a thought best left alone.

There’s a moment of silence that shrouds them after that. Phil’s thumb tracks a soft path over the back of his hand and then back again, over and over. Dan stares at it. He pulls their joined fists close to his stomach and holds them there, the combined warmth of their skin radiating out so that he can almost feel it on his belly button through his t-shirt. There’s nothing to feel at that point on his stomach at the moment, of course, so he doesn’t lay Phil’s hand flat over his abdomen or anything so trite. He just tugs him a bit closer, comforted by his nearness.

“So… I guess this is happening,” Phil says.

“Yeah.” 

“Ok,” Phil nods, determined and steadfast finally, fighting through what must still be a whole bundle of buzzing nerves rattling around in his brain.  
He’s fighting it, being strong for Dan. 

This is Phil. Dan’s Phil; loyal to a fault and solid when Dan is wavering. He has hold of Dan’s hand which isn’t a lot in the grand scheme of things, but it represents more than just that simple gesture. 

They haven’t got everything worked out yet, and Dan knows there are a lot of decisions they’ll have to make and questions that need answering about how all of this is going to work. 

But this is the first step, and it’s enough for now. Dan thinks about the bundle of cells doubling and growing inside of him, of the frightening potential they hold, and lets Phil’s thumb continue its rhythmic strokes over his skin. 

It’s a start.

**Author's Note:**

> If people really like this and would be interested in it being continued, please let me know. You can comment or [come send me an ask on Tumblr](http://jestbee.tumblr.com/ask)


End file.
